New Story Poll
by LOinOP
Summary: I have so many ideas and so little time to "Burn the Keys" these days. So, instead of picking from a hat, I have given the fan base 3 choices for stories including a brief summary and an excerpt of each. I will give this poll until APRIL 7TH to vote on the next CATS fan fiction! Yay!
1. 1

Hiya, FanFiction readers! I'm In The Loop (or LOinOP) and I'm looking to provide you all with some kind of entertainment while I brush up my writing skills! So I figured I would let you guys decide what story you wanted to subscribe to and read for the next little while. I'm finishing school in a couple weeks and I don't have a job yet so I have promising hopes for the summer break :)

* * *

When I was a child it was custom for the elders to tell us of our ancestors and the history of our world. In these stories we learned of our duties and our promise to our allies and friends outside the family's borders.

I remember the story well, for it is my own, and everyday it reminds me that the world is nothing but endless struggle. This is the story of our world:

In the Beast days my kind lived within the Forest of Klou, Klou being the name of our king. We lived in solitude in the North East of the land, feeding off of the plants we grew and the animals that lived in our domain. We weren't inherently good or evil, but we lived in peace.

Here in the forest we studied the nature of the world and the energy of the cosmos relentlessly. It wasn't until a couple decades before the war that we were rewarded for our dedication with the knowledge of living alongside the Keeper of Earth and learned to manipulate our world as we knew it.

The power we mastered eventually embedded our soul; the more we practiced the easier it became for our lives to bow to the thrill of living as demigods. We were losing touch with our mortal felinity. But soon the Ademficio, a group of nomads gathered for the sake of war, begged my kind for help: Klou's father Flengein who lived exiled in the North had been creating an army of cats enslaved from all over the land.

Knowing Flengein had mastered the arts of the cosmos we saw no other choice but to act, fearing the death of our neighbours and the eventual invasion on Klou's kingdom. So we joined the Ademficio and their allies the Terraneese and the Jellicles in war.

Legend has it that the war had lasted only two hours before the enslaved army was completely flattened. The Ademficio had won, killing Flengein with Klou's blessing and restoring freedom to all cats.

But it wasn't over for the Ademficio. Once the war had ended many of our kind took leave of Klou's forest to further study the world and strengthen their abilities. _^ who had led the Ademficio could never forgive us for allowing Flengein to become so brutal. So, fearing a reprise, began methodically killing our journeying people.

When Klou found out of the murders he launched a rebellion in the heat of madness which sent us into a bloody battle against our once allies. We halved the Ademificio before the Terraneese joined the battle. The Jellicles, who remained in close contact with us since the great war, vowed to remain neutral in the matter.

Only when we had completely eliminated the Terraneese did the Jellicles intervene. They saved the Ademficio from their doom and imposed on us Peacemaking laws to keep our strength at bay. In retrospect we should have slaughtered the Jellicles when we had been strong enough, but Klou's close friendship with the Jellicle leader spared them.

This is where I come into the the story.

Klou's tribe thrived like never before with the new knowledge our few returning journeyers shared; we thirsted for the knowledge but had to make sacrifices to reach these new oases. To keep ourselves hidden and to keep our strength thin we set out in small clans to explore the sacred elements of the earth and to acquire the Keeper of the Earth's secrets. Centuries later I was born into what was then known as the Bormorean clan, the small subsection of Klou's great tribe that had long ago branched off to study the mystic and occulted.

My father, a respected member of the counsel, ensured my greatest knowledge by appointing to me the wisest of the Elder cats. I learned things beyond my wildest imaginations (and trust me, I had a very colourful imagination from the start) and saw the greatness of my future paved out ahead of me in my father's footsteps.

But it was short lived as I turned five and the talk of war began. The eve of the Summer Solstice, my father and I were tending to our small herb garden when my teacher Tortara offered to take me with him and some of the other kittens to safety in the city. My father laughed and reminded him that our kind had not been involved in any violence since the Peacemaking, what enemies would want to bring us harm?

The Summer Solstice marks the anniversary of the Ademficio breaking my home gates and slaughtering my tribe in the midst of our thanksgiving and meditation. I watched in horror as the blood spurted from my father's throat and stained the fruits of our garden, my mother raped on the tapestry following my family lineage to the Beast days and cored in the family nest. I heard and saw it all from the small hideaway beneath my home. Their screams for mercy haunt me still.

I spent the next two days eating the preserves my mother had made and sleeping curled into my father's lifeless body. The few who survived passed my dead family and I on their way out of the gates.

Tortara came back and brought the few who made it through the attack but couldn't survive outside the Bormorean way of life. He took us to our neighbouring clans, the city, and even to the main tribe— the descendants of Klou— to find us homes.

I ended up being traded to the Jellicle tribe to settle a Bormorean debt to the leader Deuteronomy. It took some convincing to persuade him into taking in a magical cat he would have to train himself, but Tortara assured him of my ability to learn and the benefits of raising one's own help.

I kept my original name of Quaxo and quickly found my place in the Jellicle tribe, with new parents, friends, teachers, and a whole new life to boot, I wasn't so sure about my future anymore.

Now I stand, tiny and sick with anxiety, in front of Deuteronomy's den like I had so many years before awaiting judgement to pass. My paws burn and shake with power, threatening to crack under the tight fists I hold at my sides.

"Why are you nervous?" whispers Munkustrap, Old Deuteronomy's middle son and potential replacement. He's still young despite his world-weary tendencies and is still sometimes just as meek as I am in the presence of his father, though I haven't the slightest reason why. When I look to him he's sickly and struggles to keep his paws still.

I swallow back a shuddery breath and clear my throat quietly. "N…no."

Munkustrap gives me a look. "Okay, maybe a little."

In front of us the den stirs and a thick canvas sways back to reveal Coricopat and Tantomile calmly padding out to meet him. Tantomile looks worried while Coricopat's face is as tight and apathetic as always.

Tantomile comes to me and holds out her arms for me to run into her embrace, letting me cling to her and shove the whole of my face into the crook of her neck. I try to ignore Munkustrap's fidgeting behind me. "Mum," I begin but am interrupted by Coricopat's hands on my shoulders, pulling me away.

"It's time to go now, Quaxo, Deuteronomy's waiting."

Reluctantly I let Tantomile, my loving and very unconventional adoptive mother, go and followed the worn foot trail up to Deuteronomy's door. I toss back a glance and find Munkustrap gone and the twins settling for meditation. At least I know they'll be right outside should I need them.

"Quaxo." I flinch and skitter inside without so much as knocking, effectively entangling myself in the canvas. The hand that pulls me out of my confines is regrettably the very last cat I want touching me right now; probably the very last cat I want to see today. He inhales my scent and takes the sight of me in deeply, committing me to memory like Skimbleshanks does when one of his nieces or nephews claim to have grown. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

No one mentioned anything about an open dialogue. "I— Well, yes, you could say it has."

He leans in close and places both of his hugemongous paws on my shoulders. "Are you ready to take on your responsibilities, my son?"

No. But then again I don't have a choice: I wasn't exactly brought here out of charity and it has always been understood that I would have to repay the hospitality of the Jellicles. So I shrug, trying to look like I'm not about to burst into a kittenish meltdown. "There's no sense in running from madness."

Thankfully he laughs. "Then have a seat and we'll get started."

* * *

This story doesn't have a pairing (...yet!) and I've no real idea as to the rating. Maybe something T-M for violence/scary stuff?

Basically Quaxo is the child of another tribe and has been brought to the Jellicles to settle a debt. He is raised by Coricopat and Tantomile and is thus trained to suit the... _magical?_ needs of the Jellicles. But there is a lot Quaxo doesn't know about his kind that gets him into some serious problems as he becomes initiated into the magical community. It turns out that there is a secret blood-battle between all of the magic cats in the city where they try to "harvest" each other in order to become strong enough... but strong enough for what exactly? Well, I can't tell you **everything**.

To vote for this story, you can review with "1" or the french option "1". I would also like to know why you want that one and anything you feel you want to share :)


	2. 2

_Story #2! Summary follows._

* * *

Every time I run my hands through my fur I can feel the scars covering my body head-to-toe. Sometimes they criss-cross and I like to think of the lines like archaeological dig findings. _And here on the hip is the scar from collecting a liver sample, the newer one intersecting is from the liver extraction. Oh! Over there! Is that the incision they used to insert the shunt into his brain? By God, I believe it is. Huzzah!_

"Prom?..." I stare wide-eyed into the sink, my hands quaking just inches from the tap. My chest tightens and the panic bubbles up and out my throat in blazing green ribbons. "P-Prometheus! Prometheus, HELP!"

Out of the tap creep the damnedest creatures I have never seen in my school texts. Ones with twelve legs and searching, sentient feline eyes; some slipping out and plopping against the linoleum like big fat slugs of cooking grease. Above the sink is a small poster of an elephant balancing on a tightrope. I focus on that until the bathroom door swings open.

He crosses behind me, searching the bathroom uselessly, slamming open the stalls before setting his hands on my shoulders to follow my gaze to the yellowing poster. "Th-the sink," I whisper, knowing he won't see anything but my careless waste of water.

He turns off the tap. "Mistoffelees, there's nothing there."

I look down and amaze at my hands, not covered in slugs and critters, but angry red and hot... scalding, actually. The depths of my flimsy stomach turn and before I have time to even duck my head into the sink I'm vomiting all over myself. "Oh my- Misto! Bloody hell! Here..."

Holding my shoulders, we turn towards the stalls together and he ever so carefully sets me down in the cleaner of the two so that I'm sitting with my back against the wall. "I'm so sorry, Prom," I choke when he disappears to get something to wipe off the vomit. "I know the Sheyanne Games were today-"

"We'll just have to miss them," he sighs. I feel terribly guilty but too nauseous to focus on anything but the violent trembling knocking up and down my spine and the burns on my hands. The tap turns on again. "Do you want me to get an attendant?"

_No_, I want to say, but I can't seem to find my voice. So I lean over and puke into the toilet as response.

"You're puking blood." He's over my shoulder now, I can feel his eyes watching me with insatiable curiosity and hear the borderline manic tone in his even voice. Not so much with the brotherly worry we came here with so much as the objective scientist he's become... at my expense. "I'll bring you to the infirmary."

I manage, with no little shock, to climb to my feet on my own; when I reach my full height I'm faced with the mirror image of myself- well, as much of an image as you can get from a carnival mirror. A tall, muscular tuxedo cat with green eyes and an uneven mouth reaches out to support me. It's on the way out of the washroom, passing by the full-length mirror, that I see how far apart our twin image has drifted.

I see a sick, underweight and mangy thing clinging to my twin's arm. His fur has fallen out in thick patches around his small, frail body. Blood trickles down from his... _my_ dull blue eyes.

A very unfunny and cruel carnival mirror image.

We have to pass by the dormitory to get to the elevator which takes us to the first floor of the centre, we can hear our friends hollering and chatting excitedly as they put on their gym clothes and sneakers. Prometheus tightens his grip around me until it hurts and all but carries me passed the door. My retching draws attention. "Hey, guys, why aren't you getting ready?"

The cat, ironically named Brain, catches up to us, sporting his homemade "Who Needs Two Hemispheres" T-shirt. He spots me and sighs irritably. "I'm bringing Mistoffelees to the infirmary."

"Of course you are— say, why don't you join us after you drop him off? You'll just be sitting there anyway, and we can't win the Tug-O-War without you. I wanna cream those test-tube kids this year."

I can feel Promethus's heart race in his chest: he's itching to drop me right here and yank the rope right out of the other team's paws. So, straightening myself as best I can against the nausea I push away from him to stand on my own. "You can go ahead, Prom. I can make it there on my own."

With wide eyes he stares at me, his paw absently pulling at his grey lab shirt. "You… you're sure, Misto?"

"Yeah! I'm already feeling better; I just want to go make sure it's nothing to be safe. I'll come watch when I'm done, you go get ready." My paws instinctively wrap themselves in the hem of my shirt to keep from shaking. Bile creeps up my throat and I swallow it back and dig my claws into my palms.

"Awesome! Let's go get ready!" exclaims Brain and pulls Prometheus into the dorm before he can change his mind.

"Thanks, Mistoffelees!"

Once they're out of sight I allow myself the luxury of steadying myself against the wall and place a hand to my stomach. It's hard and full of blood— which isn't as scary as it sounds as my stomach isn't that big to begin with. With a breath for strength I push myself forward to the elevator.

Stumbling down the hall I pass the other dormitories, each one housing a different class of Sheyanne's finest test subjects.

The ones closest to the elevators are the lab's pride and joy: the Test-Tube babies. Each of these cats are genetically engineered and born to many of the researchers here. They all look pretty normal at a glance, but take one look in their rounded irises, see the bleed of their pupils into the surrounding ghostly colour and you know they're a new species altogether. I don't know what was done to them, but I do know that and they're notorious for outperforming the rest of us. Though a legless sloth could kick us to the dust.

Next are the Tweakers. These cats are a mess of different, unclassifiable tests; from kittens who will physically never grow up to cats who've had their brains sliced down the middle and now have two separate functioning brains. All of them have one "tweak" to them that makes them more or less unique to the group.

Then there are what I like to call Scrambled Eggs, these are the subjects of various brain surgeries and behavioural manipulation. There's one tom in there who literally never gets scared— he physically can't get scared! Ironically he's very timid by nature. Very nice to the rest of us.

Last but not least are the Twins. This is mine and Prometheus's dorm; everything and anything regarding differences between twins are tested on us. Did you know that a cat's response to being socially isolated is based on upbringing and not genetic resilience to social deprivation? I can personally say from experience that it's absolutely true.

I've been here for 12 years, since Prometheus and I were 4 and our mum needed money to feed the rest of the 8-kitten litter. They offered a bit of money for her to let them do a couple harmless tests on us, then they offered her a number she couldn't refuse to take us into the lab indefinitely.

She took the payday and wailed as she signed us off to the hands of the researchers. Prometheus was chosen to be the baseline and the next day they cut me open. After a month of tests I had completely forgotten what my mother looked like.

When I reached the Test-Tube room my stomach spasmed and fell to my knees and I purged my belly of blood in front of the door for all to see.

No one protested but instead watched me pitifully. "When was your surgery?" one of them asked, walking up to me in her Sheyanne branded polo shirt. I couldn't keep myself from staring at her butchered eyes; the pupil exploded like a star in her right eye.

"Tuesday," I gasped and cringed when she gently reached out to run her finger along a faded scar trailing from my temple to the back of my ear.

"You should get yourself to the infirmary," she advised before disappearing back into the dormitory, shutting the door behind her. Behind me a bunch of Scrambled Eggs broke out into a mess of chanting and skip-staggered to the washrooms.

With a tired breath I pushed myself up and stumbled the last few feet to the elevators.

* * *

Well, that's the perfect start to a great, well-rounded feel good story, no?

Mistoffelees and Prometheus, twin tuxedo toms, are sold to the Sheyanne laboratories to be a part of their various experiments and studies. When a test goes awry and all Hell breaks loose, Mistoffelees is offered a new lease on life... if he can push pass the abuse the laboratory marred him with and survive life beyond the scalpel.

This summary was a little short but I didn't want to risk giving much away.

Remember to vote if you want this story!


	3. 3

Story #3!

* * *

I was never a smoking tom, it's a disgusting habit that really makes no sense whatsoever- this coming from a tom who lives and breathes useless habits!

Every morning I stretch for ten minutes before getting out of bed. I make three tours of the junkyard: one to wake up, the second to make sure I got a good look at everything, and third to find breakfast. At noon I sit in fifteen minute intervals around the clearing and after a couple hours of this I run to the pond and back. I talk to the same cats in the evening and in the same order. Three more tours of the junkyard where I will find my supper. Interval shifts at various posts for the first half of the night until I'm relieved. I knead my bed for about three minutes, circle clockwise four times, and settle for sleep. Repeat.

Pretty useless, huh? Just like smoking except I get to eat, I'm kept safe, and I get to socialize. Smoking is just making yourself into a living chimney.

So it is very fair of you to wonder why I'm spending the better part of my evening in a seedy club wearing a suit that's been recently dry-cleaned, fondling a stack of poker chips I couldn't possibly have paid for, and puffing on the end of a big fat cigar. Oh yeah, and there's a stripper (yes, an actual stripper! No, she doesn't have a penis) waiting for me to finish my round for a private dance in the back... prepaid.

I'm a pretty lucky bastard, aren't I?

"I'm out," calls a fuchsia fedora fiasco sitting at the end of the table. Funny, I hadn't realized he was playing.

"_That's the cue.__"_

I smirk at the cards in my hand. It's utter garbage. "I'll raise you," I grin and place a small stack of chips down. The stripper has since taken an interest in the table and sits too close beside me, her breasts cradling my arm.

"_Someone's approaching you, Munkustrap.__"_

"_Female. Short black and blonde fur. Coming from behind.__"_

I can't help but chuckle; I'm in a club in a probably expensive suit, of course there will be people approaching me. But still I nudge the queen beside me lightly. "Take care of it," I hiss just low enough to go undetected by my fellow players.

The stripper stands and- I can only assume- takes care of our guest. And everyone knows what happens when one just assumes:

They end up dead... and make an ASS our of U and ME. Har har.

"Munkustrap!? What the hell are you doing here? What are you doing?" a terrifyingly familiar voice demands. I don't even dare look behind me, I'm too focused on on the growing look of realization on my competitors' faces through the thick smoke.

"_Holy mother of fu-_" Shut up for a minute.

"Who's dis?" asks Sergionne, or, the tom I'm actually supposed to kill in fifteen minutes when we celebrate our big win on Britain's homeland security hack with some hot dames in the back. He's looking at the cat who has just outted me but after a moment he's pointing at me, his "partner in crime." "...Munkustrap? Like, from da Jellicles or somethin'?"

"_GET OUT! GET OUT GETOUT GETOUTGETOUT!_" With pleasure.

In a flash my chips are flying at his face and I pitch myself at him to slam the thug's face into his silly girly appletini. He swears in a puddle of alcohol. "Fucking kill him!"

"GO!"I scream over my shoulder before hopping up onto the table and slamming the toe of my reinforced shoe into the wrist of a waiting gun. Then I kick the face attached to the wrist and wrench the gun from him to shoot the tom right between the eyes. That's for the last hand.

Guns all around the room erupt into the song of their people, bullets zipping left and right in some macabre ballet... well...more like a hoedown.

Through the haze I spot the stripper rising from behind the bar with the biggest, most ridiculous machine gun I've ever seen. A flash of gold disappears down the stairway behind the bar and I know this is the end of my fun.

"_There's too many agents on the floor.__"_

"_I have a couple runners heading out the backstage-__"_

"—_Munkustrap, where's the target?!__—__"_

"_I need backup, now!__"_

I jump the bar with practiced ease and land just in time to grab a steak knife from the cutlery tray and plunge it into the idiot who followed me towards the machine gun. I shove him hard until he topples backwards off the bar.

"Everlasting Cat." I turn around and spot a Jellicle huddled against the under-bar dishwasher. It's not the Jellicle I'm expecting which means that probably more than three followed me here. "Y-you just _killed_ that guy."

My stomach drops and I suddenly taste something sour in the back of my throat. "Tugger..."

"_I'm opening fire!__"_

"_...Three in the V.I.P lounge...__"_

"Get out!" screams the stripper over her shoulder at me before unleashing mayhem on the club patrons, her breasts straining hard against her girdle as she handles the gun with all her strength.

I reach out and tear Tugger from the dishwasher to the stairs and all but chuck him down. He does the work and rolls down the entire flight until he hits the plush carpet with a strangled groan. I jump over him and pull him to his feet hoping he'll regain his balance soon. The light here is poor but my aim is still perfect if someone follows us down here.

We round the corner and I see the other Jellicles he came with. I'm a bit disappointed to see only two cats banging at the emergency exit. "It's locked," I bark and the shorter one whirls around to throw a piece of PVC piping at my head. The only thing it manages to damage is my pride as it sails over mine and Tugger's head and skips cross the carpet; is this really the best my tribe can do?

"Demeter," I groan. "It's just us, calm down."

"_Where _are_ you!?_"

"CALM DOWN?! Are you out of your batty little mind?!" She lets out a rabid scream and hysterically claws the door. At her side I see the Jellicle responsible for starting this chaos: Bombalurina.

And she's bleeding. "You've been shot?"

Despite the pain (which maybe she doesn't fell just yet) she lets out a pretty impressive snort of laughter. "If I'd have known, I would have brought my bullet-proof vest."

"_Two are headed into the basement, Munk._"

"I'm not deaf," I sigh and turn around in time to spot the two crooks in janitor uniforms and shoot them both in the chest before they find a way to hurt themselves with their guns.

Demeter and Bombalurina shriek so loud they make my ears ring for the first time tonight. Tugger, ever the proud tom, screams "Bloody hell!" and stumbles onto his rear at my feet.

I lose it, it was the greatest thing I've ever seen him do. My laughter is shared with no one.

"_Who's laughing?__"_

"_The stage is clear- is someone laughing?__"_

"_Bang.__"_

"Munk- LOOK OUT!"

"_Bang._" I straighten up and follow my eyes down the poised barrel of my gun where the cat who managed to sneak up on me stands smiling. "Bang! What are you going to do with that, I wonder."

It's the first face I'm actually pleased to see tonight. Relief relaxes the muscles in my back and I use the barrel of the gun to rub away the tingly feeling. "Probably take it out to a nice dinner, maybe a romantic stroll along the canal-"

"Who- who is _this_ now?" Demeter demands, eyeing the gun in the stranger's hand warily.

The tom, an impossibly tiny tuxedo cat who acts at least twice _my_ size, glares back with just as much caution. I see a glitter of mischief in his eye as he responds; "I'm his life-partner, who are _you_?"

That's my cue to jump in-

"_Anyone want to answer me, or am I just going to have to start streaming porn until you guys are done with your reunion?__"_

"_Please do.__"_

I thrust my wrist up to my mouth and speak into the cuff of my sleeve, "_We're in the basement... with a couple friends._"

"_I'm glad you won't be alone forever. Now let's regroup and head back to base_."

"Um, okay," I begin and am suddenly hit with a sack of realizations. This is the first time any Jellicle has witnessed me killing another cat, I'm wearing town clothing (As opposed to none), and I'm standing and chatting amicably with a tom they've never seen, both of us wielding guns.

For the very first time I have to mesh the two identities I've kept completely and inexorably separate my whole life together. I turn to the Jellicles and swallow back the bile. "Bomba, Deme... Tugger. This is my partner, agent Mistoffelees. Misto, these are the Jellicles."

They stare at each other in utter shock. More-so Mistoffelees who knows each of these cats solely on my relentless stories; he looks like he's meeting his long lost family for the very first time, one I've taught him to both love and despise. I counted on them never meeting. I don't think the others have even the slightest clue as to what's going on.

"...They're a lot taller than I imagined." Mistoffelees eventually shrugs and nudges past the four of us to the locked exit door, excusing himself as he passed. With a booming thud the door gives under his foot and swings open to a busy carpark full of Agency vans. "This should be fun," he mumbles and leads us into the crowd.

Mumbling! That's another pointless habit!

* * *

Waitaminute! That's not a Mistoffelees story; it's a schizophrenic Munkustrap story. I thought I'd be a little unpredictable and throw you guys a little curveball there!

Summary: Munkustrap is a pretty quiet and unassuming tom, which is why no one thinks to question his long absences from home, his skill and dexterity in fighting despite the lackadaisical lifestyle of any other cat, and the quiet secret knowing he shares with his father Old Deuteronomy. That is, until The Rum Tum Tugger, Bombalurina, and Demeter decide to question his extracurricular activities and follows him into town one evening. Now Munkustrap has to deal with the sudden colliding of his polar opposite identities, explaining the strangeness of his life as an agent for a high-security international army as the Jellicles he's so desperately been protecting get sucked further into the wrong side of his life. With a whole other family, personality, and big secrets, it's a roller coaster of dodging bullets and revelations when the Munkustrap they know peels away to reveal a tom beyond recognition.


	4. WINNA!

Well! What can I say! 4 reviews (4 more than I thought I would get, 999,996 less than I unrealistically wished)

The winner is No. 3! Let's give it up for Munkustrap and whatever voices he hears! I'll get started ASAP once I get my commissions n junk out of the way! If you have any questions, suggestions, or if you want to talk to me (which is always nicer than talking to my cat) then send me a PM!

Can't wait to get started! Remember to follow me to get the first Chapter... well... first! I can't wait!

~LOinOP


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